Cultural crusader
Critic, poet and cultural activist Ashok Vajpeyi, whose zest for life expresses itself in many forms, feels the compulsions of electoral and representational democratic structures militate against excellence in artsNonika Singh

Just
as a tiger won’t change its stripes, critic, poet and cultural
activist Ashok Vajpeyi will remain quintessentially himself. Candid and
not the one to mince words, he cares two hoots about rubbing people the
wrong way. Be it dear friends Gulzar and Javed, who he calls
"overrated poets" or the art academies in the country (some of
which he has been at the helm), nothing escapes his censure. In a nation
that propagates mediocrity, he is dogged in his pursuit for excellence.

Whatever
the circumstances, be it as part of the government or out of it, holding
a position of eminence or having relinquished charge, his energies will
remain devoted to the three areas he cherishes most. Being a poet of
considerable mettle, expectedly, poetry is his first love. But then as
he says, "this love gets channelled in other realms like classical
and visual arts too."

His term as the
chairperson of Lalit Kala Akademi may have ended, but his association
with visual arts has not. Associated with celebrated artist SH Raza’s
foundation, he is busy working for several of its initiatives. These
initiatives include a magazine Abstraction, of which he will be the
chief editor. It will delve into abstract themes in different arts.
Indeed, he knows abstraction is a much misunderstood, if not maligned,
term in India. Says he, "We often forget that be it our
philosophical thought, ritualistic imagery or tribal art, abstraction
has been an inextricable part of our tradition." The educated
middle class whom he calls "culturally illiterate," however,
he feels is oblivious of this fact and considers it a western concept.

This former Secretary
of Culture, Union Ministry of Culture, has no hesitation in stating that
bureaucracy is no different and is as much afflicted by cultural
illiteracy as well as by inert incompetence.

As a man who made
Bharat Bhawan, Bhopal, a throbbing nucleus of art and culture, he quips,
"My singular endeavour as a bureaucrat was to ensure that the state
played a significant role in art but only by providing resources and
opportunities and not by intervening ideologically." Unfortunately,
he rues that when governments interfere (as happened in the case of
Bharat Bhawan later on), the good work done is ruined. The state of art
academies in the country, except for the working of Sangeet Natak
Akademi, too pains him. As the chairperson of the Lalit Kala Akademi he
tried to stem the rot by bringing in refreshing new programmes like
Artists on Art and Others on Art lectures, organising Indian pavilion at
Venice Biennale and much more. But he admits, "I was able to do
only half the things I wanted to." Yet another regret he has is
that while his role as a cultural crusader has never been challenged nor
opposed, "no one cared to follow me." For the apathy towards
arts, particularly absence of art criticism, he blames the media more so
electronic which in its bid to cater to morons ends up creating more of
the kind.

A votary of
private-public partnership in arts, the danger, he feels, lies in the
fact that when private players come in, "the focus shifts to
visibility and glamour." Not the one to grudge glamour, "who
minds looking at cleavages? I have been obsessed with women all my
life," he fathoms too well the place of eroticism and romanticism,
more so in the arts. He laments the absence of shingaar ras in modern
sensibilities and thought.

His poetry, however,
brims with the beauty of nature, of women and, of course, death,
mortality, love and desire. "Take me as darkness takes the roots,
as water takes the moon."

Poetry for him is an organic process
that can’t happen "unless you make love to the language,"
and he never plans a book on poetry. Prose, however, is a different
matter. At the upcoming residency in France, he is planning to write a
book on Ghalib and Kabeer. Author of nearly two dozen books, he wishes
he had written more. Somewhere in the corner of the heart also lurks a
desire to write a play in verse form. Not to forget the autobiography
that is weighing on his mind, "Only I don’t know when to find the
time to begin." In a life lived to the fullest dotted by numerous
achievements and honours like Kabir Samman, the Sahitya Akademi Award
the "to do list" is as long. As an executive trustee of Raza
foundation he has a vision to redress many ills that plague the world of
arts. But then for a man possessed with the idea of excellence…the
standards for the self cannot be any less exacting.